


the magic of gummi frogs (and other things)

by renecdote



Series: hc_bingo 2019 [4]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Coping, Eliot is a good friend, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e07 The Gone Fishin' Job, Fluff, Gen, Near Death Experience, Or not coping as the case may be, this one is emphasis on the comfort not the hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-12 05:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20999741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renecdote/pseuds/renecdote
Summary: Episode coda to The Gone Fishin' Job ft Eliot and Hardison on the drive home.





	the magic of gummi frogs (and other things)

**Author's Note:**

> Idk I just love this episode and wanted some feelings. Fills the 'stranded / survival scenario' square on my hurt/comfort bingo card.

Hardison’s leg won’t stop bouncing. It’s driving Eliot crazy, Hardison can see it in the tension that has slowly been creeping through the hitter’s shoulders, but he doesn’t tell him to stop it. Knowing Eliot, he can probably see right through Hardison’s blithe chatter to the real reason he has too much energy to sit still. It’s two hours back to Boston and they’re not even at the end of hour one. Hardison had been fine for the first fifteen minutes or so, but then he’d started _thinking_.

Fatal mistake, that. Letting his eyes wander and his mind drift. He rubs his wrist absently, skin bruised and sore from being yanked around by a handcuff. Not that Eliot was the worst person to be handcuffed to—and Hardison definitely isn’t going to be telling _him_ that—but he really could have done without the whole handcuffs, militants, being stranded in the freakin’ woods. 

Almost _dying_.

Yeah. Especially the almost dying.

They’re coming into a town now. Traffic lights at busy intersections slowing them to a stop. Hardison watches a young couple on a motorcycle idling beside them, her blonde hair peeking out from beneath her helmet. It makes him think of Parker, which makes him think of how he came so close to never seeing her again, never seeing any of them again, if they’d miscalculated just a little, if his gambit with the cigarette hadn’t work—

A horn behind them makes him jump. 

_You see that? That’s called a plan!_ That’s what he’d said. Lying out his ass, trying to out-talk the rapid beating of his heart. What it had been was dumb fucking luck.

Eliot flicks on the indicator and turns left, then pulls off into a parking space a moment later. 

“What are we doing here?” Hardison asks. His leg is still bouncing. He makes himself stop, look around. Busy street. Cars parked along the edges. Cafés, shops, people walking between them.

Eliot gets out of the car without answering. The door slams shut behind him and Hardison is left sitting in the ringing silence. He twists in his seat, belt biting into his neck, and watches Eliot disappear into a convenience store with a giant 24/7 sign that is peeling at the top. Harrison has a sudden, stupid, mental image of Eliot buying smokes. He chokes on a hysterical laugh. Stupid. Eliot doesn’t smoke.

Hell, Hardison doesn’t smoke. Doesn’t mean he can’t taste the menthol light between his teeth. Smell it in the scent of fertiliser and smoke which clings to his sweater. He’s probably going to have to burn this sweater. No amount of washing is going to get the stench of almost dying in the middle of nowhere out of the cotton. 

Eliot comes back and a packet of gummi frogs smacks Hardison in the face. 

“I thought you said these things were more chemicals than food,” he says, staring down at the packet.

“Just eat them,” Eliot growls.

Hardison rips open the frogs and looks at the hard lines of Eliot’s face. “Aw, you’re worried about me,” he says, smile growing with the words. 

“They almost killed you,” Eliot replies, voice hard, hands clenched around the steering wheel like he wishes it was the neck of one of the militia men.

It’s easier, somehow, to let it slide off his back now that he’s reassuring Eliot he’s not about to break. Hardison pops a gummi frog in his mouth, chewing as he says, “Like it’s the first time someone has tried to kill me.”

The car idles while they sit there, not moving, for a moment that stretches between them, keeps stretching, putty pulled thin until it tears and snaps.

“Being freaked out is a good thing,” Eliot says, talking to the side mirror instead of looking at Hardison. “You shouldn’t be used to almost dying.”

There’s an unsaid addendum there, a footnote saying _like I am_. 

“Might be in the wrong line of work for that,” Hardison says, making it sound lighter than he feels. If he thinks too hard about it, he’s going to slide right back into a panic attack, gummi frogs be damned. 

“That’s why I’m here.”

_Aw, getting soft there, E_, Hardison thinks. Followed immediately by _oh hell no_ when he replays Eliot’s tone in his head. It’s all about tone with Eliot. He says a lot of things while meaning a hundred more. And right now it sounds like he means he’s not just here to protect Hardison from almost dying, he’s here to take his place in that scenario. Hardison can’t just let that lie. Damn reckless, protective, self-sacrificing— “And who is supposed to save you?” he challenges.

Eliot doesn’t look at him in the seconds between green lights even though Hardison keeps staring at him, trying to will him to make eye contact. He has no idea where to start having a conversation about how not expendable Eliot is, but if Eliot pushes him, he’s going to push right back. Eliot doesn’t push though, doesn’t say anything while they creep through town. Then they’re past all the lights, back on open road, the tarmac stretching out in front of them, and Hardison is still arguing with himself about whether he should push it or not.

Pros: great distraction from thinking about being stranded in the middle of the wilderness and almost being shot—_twice_.

Cons: Eliot gets annoyed and pulls over again, but this time he throws Hardison out of his car. That would put him right back to being stranded. Although, not having the minutemen with guns and explosives trying to kill him would definitely improve the experience.

“Just eat your frogs,” Eliot finally says, long after the time to reply has passed.

“For the record,” Hardison says through a mouth full of gummi frogs. “I’d save your grumpy ass. Just like I did today.”

“You did not—” Eliot growls and Hardison laughs a nd—hey,his leg has stopped its anxious bouncing. That's cool. 

Must be the magic of the gummi frogs.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is [here](https://renecdote.tumblr.com/)


End file.
